Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

As a Christian, I believe that it is our responsibility to educate our children in the LORD. When we send our children to public schools we are sending them into a place where CHRIST is not allowed. Why? We are CHRIST believing people right? Then why? GOD gave the teaching responsibility to each of us parents. We are teach them the ways of the LORD morning, noon and night.

We have gotten so off track that if we do not take our kids back, we are going to lose them to this pagan society.

This video talks about a mass exodus from the public schools, and I stand behind it all the way. If you disagree, that is your free will and choice, but if you comment, please be kind. No, language or bad tone. We can agree to disagree. GOD bless you all!

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

I found this video while reading other blogs. It is called "The Story of Stuff'. Have you seen it yet? If not, I am posting it here for you to watch. It does take 20 minutes, but it seems much faster because she will have your complete attention all the way through.

I found this video very thought provoking. What are you thoughts. Please comment and let me know what you think. GOD bless you!

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

Political Philosophies Explained in Simple "Two-Cow" Terms

Socialism:You have two cows. You keep one and give one to your neighbor.

Communism:You have two cows. The government takes them both and provides you with milk.

Fascism:You have two cows. The government takes them and sells you the milk.

Bureaucracy:You have two cows. The government takes them both, shoots one, milks the other, pays you for the milk, and then pours it down the drain.

Capitalism:You have two cows. You sell one and buy a bull.

Corporate:You have two cows. You sell one, force the other to produce the milk of four cows and then act surprised when it drops dead.

Democracy:You have two cows. The government taxes you to the point that you must sell them both in order to support a man in a foreign country who has only one cow which was a gift from your government.

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

I have posted this story before, and it is long, but worth the read...enjoy! GOD bless you!

The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It's not influenza, but three or four people are dead, and it's kind of interesting, and they're sending some doctors over there to investigate it.

You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.

By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu." The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, How are we going to contain it?

That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. And that's why that night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe.

Panic strikes.

As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week before you know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die.

Britain closes its borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and its Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing,"

Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about "What if it comes to this country," and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "it's the scourge of God." It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." And while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made: "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."

Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.

And then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals.

Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home."

You stand around, scared, with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on and if this is the end of the world.

Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. Wait a minute. Hold on! And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type." Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another - some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine."

As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and you wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need...we need you to sign a consent form."

You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!"

"But-but...You don't understand." "We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We-we need it all!"

"But can't you give him a transfusion?"

"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" In numb silence, you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"

Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say, "Son, you know I love you, and I would never ever let anything, happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"

And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying."

Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Dad? Why - why have you forsaken me?"

And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU CARE?"

Is that what GOD wants to say? "MY SON DIED FOR YOU. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?"

"Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great Love you have for us."

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

Jacob had twelve sons, and of them all he loved Joseph best. Now, Joseph's older brother were jealous because he was the favorite.

One night Joseph dreamed a strange dream.

"We were binding sheaves in the field," he said to his brothers, "and lo! my sheaf arose and stood upright; and, behold, your sheaves stood round about and made obeisance to my sheaf."

When his brothers heard this dream, they hated him the more. They saw that it meant he was to be chief of them all.

Not long after this, his older brothers were feeding their flocks in the fields, and Joseph went to see how they were getting on.

When they saw him they said: "Behold, this dreamer cometh. Let us slay him and say some evil beast hath devoured him."

But Reuben, the oldest, would not agree to this. He said it would be better to throw Joseph into a pit and leave him there. Afterward, he thought, he could take Joseph out and carry him home.

So his brothers stripped Joseph of his beautiful coat of many colors, which his father had given him, and threw him into a pit.

But instead of leaving him there, they sold him to some merchants who came by on their way to Egypt.

Then they killed a kid and dipped Joseph's coat in the blood. They took this to their father and said, "This have we found."

Jacob thought that wild beasts had killed his son, and he mourned for him as dead.

Meanwhile, Joseph traveled on southward day after day until he reached the palm trees and pyramids on the banks of the Nile.

The merchants sold Joseph to one of the captains of the king of Egypt. After a while he was falsely accused of doing evil. He was thrown into prison, where he remained two years.

Then Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, had a wonderful dream. He dreamed first that he saw seven fat cattle devoured by seven lean ones, which remained lean. Then he dreamed that he saw seven good ears of corn devoured by seven thin ears, which remained thin.

Now, in those days people thought that dreams were sent from heaven to teach them something.

So they were always very anxious to find out their meaning.

Pharaoh sent for all the wise man of Egypt, but not one could tell the meaning of his dream. And the heart of Pharaoh was troubled.

Then a man whose dream Joseph had explained told the king about him. So Joseph was sent for, and he explained Pharaoh's dream.

The seven fat cattle and the seven good ears of corn meant that there would come seven years of plenty. The seven lean cattle and the seven thin ears of corn meant that seven years of famine would follow. These would eat up all that had been produced in the seven years of plenty.

Joseph advised Pharaoh to find some wise man to gather food during the good years and store it up for the years of famine.

Then Pharaoh said: "There is none so wise as thou art. Thou shalt be over my house, and according unto they word shall all my people be ruled. Only in the throne will I be greater than thou."

And Joseph became ruler over all the land of Egypt.

The years of plenty come just as he had foretold. And he gathered up grain as the sand of the sea and put it in great storehouses. When the years of famine came, he opened them spread beyond the land of Egypt, and in Joseph's old home there was great need. Jacob heard that there was grain in Egypt, and he sent ten of his sons to buy food. He kept at home Benjamin, the youngest. When his brothers came before Joseph, he knew them at once. But they never thought that the mighty ruler of Egypt was the brother whom they had sold as a slave.

Joseph resolved so to act to his brothers as to make them tell what had happened at home. So he accused them of being spies.

They said they were not. They were all the sons of one father, and they had one other brother living, the youngest, whom they had left home.

Then Joseph said that he would know their words were true if they should return and bring their youngest brother with them. He took one of them to keep till they should come back.

This news made Jacob very sad. One of his sons was a prisoner in Egypt, and now they wished to take away Benjamin, the little one on whom he had set his heart since he had lost Joseph.

For a long time he would not consent to let Benjamin go. But at last all their food was gone. They must either send to Egypt for more or they must starve. And so Jacob had to let his sons go, taking Benjamin with them.

When the sacks were filled with grain, Joseph had his own silver cup put in the sack of his youngest brother. He did this to have an excuse to keep Benjamin with him.

Early the next morning the eleven brothers set out for home. Soon, by Joseph's order, his servant went after and overtook them. He accused them of having taken the cup.

The sacks were opened, Benjamin's last of all, because he was the youngest. And there in his sack was the silver cup.

Then the brothers went back to Joseph and said that as the cup had been found in Benjamin's sack, they would all be his servants.

But Joseph said, "the man in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be my servant, and as for you, get you up in peace unto your father."

But the hearts of his brothers, which had been so hard and cruel to destroy Joseph and grieve their father, were kinder now.

Judah told in beautiful, touching words the story of their father's love for Benjamin. His gray hairs would be brought with sorrow to the grave of he lost the little one, the child of his old.

Then Joseph said, "I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into Egypt. Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that ye sold me hither; for GOD did send me before you to preserve your life."

And he kissed his brothers, and wept with them. Then Joseph said, "Tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen, and haste and bring down my father hither."

So his brothers went back home with food and gifts and joyful tidings. "Joseph is yet alive," they said, "and he is governor over all the land of Egypt."

Jacob said, "It is enough: Joseph, my son, is yet alive-I will go and see him before I die." And he with all his family went to Egypt and made his home there.

At last Joseph died, full of years and honors. And all the people mourned for the man who was great in rank and power, but greater yet in his loving, forgiving spirit.

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

Sorry, I am behind a few days, I was ill one day, and playing catching up the next few, so without delay...the next children's story.

Gita: Girl of Bangladesh

Gita lived with her family in a house made of bamboo, with a grass roof and mud floor. They lived in a small village on the edge of the jungle in Bangladesh. Across the river from the village, some people were building a house. Debindra Das, Gita's father, wondered who they were. Climbing into a small boat, Debindra rowed himself across the river. He discovered that the new people were going to stay, and they would need help washing their clothes and keeping their house clean.

Every morning Debindra rowed across the river and went to work. He watched and listened to what went on among these new people. They did not have statues or pictures of gods on the walls. They did not have a shelf where sacrifices were made to keep the gods happy. But many times these strange people bowed their heads and talked out loud to their GOD.

Debindra learned that these people had come from a faraway country to tell people in Bangladesh about the GOD WHOM they loved and worshiped. This GOD created the world and all the beautiful things in it. Then HE made people because HE wanted someone to love HIM. Even though people did bad things and did not love GOD, GOD still loved them. Debindra couldn't understand it all, but he kept listening. This GOD was different from his own gods. One day Debindra heard that the missionaries were leaving. Some were sick; and some were going to live in the city. Gita's father wondered how he would learn more about the LORD JESUS after the missionaries left.

Then one of the missionaries came to him and said, "Debindra, I will need help in my house in the city. Would you and your family come and live in the city too?"

Would he? Of course he would! This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened! Quickly he rowed back across the river to tell his family the good news.

At last the missionaries and Debindra's family were ready. They climbed into long, low dugout canoes for the long journey down the river. Monkeys chattered in the trees; the children in the boat played together and slept.

All too soon the peaceful part of the trip was over. Everyone left canoes and climbed into a huge, dirty, smelly bus. The bus rattled and swayed and sputtered as it dodged cows and goats and bicycles and a few cars on the road. Finally the group reached another river. But what was that monster on the other side of the river?

Actually, the monster was a train, but Gita and her family had never seen a train. It was as noisy and smelly as the bus. Finally the steam monster chug-chugged into the stationed and bumped to a stop.

Gita's house in the city was very near the train tracks, and soon the noisy engine didn't bother the family anymore. Then late one night, the family heard a sound much worse than the roar of the train. All day the sky had been a funny yellow color. By evening it was raining. Thunder rumbled and lighting flashed. The wind began to howl. Stronger and stronger the wind blew. . Grass roofs blew off houses. Tin roofs hurled through the night air, knocking down anything in their path. Mud walls crumbled under the lashing of the rain.

When morning came, the storm was over. As far as you could seem there was nothing but water and ruin and destruction.

A cyclone had roared through the city and destroyed everything in its path. Nearly everything Debindra's family had brought from their village home had been washed away. The little family huddled together on a pile of bricks while Debindra waded and swam to the missionary 's house. Even in that solid house windows were broken and screened porches stripped bare. After the water had gone down, Debindra took his family to live in a warm, dry room over the garage at the missionary's house.

One night Debindra finally understood that JESUS had died for him. He bowed his head and asked JESUS CHRIST to be his SAVIOR. How peaceful and happy he felt! But his family was not happy! Gita stood in front of her father and stubbornly declared, "I was born a Hindu. I will remain a Hindu. I will never change my religion as you have done."

Quietly Debindra told the family, "I cannot make you Christians. But you must know that never again will there be an idol in my house."

Each morning Debindra now gathered his family from their chores to come into the missionary's house. Even Gita loved to sing the choruses and hear the stories, but she would not let anyone know how much she enjoyed them. The Bible stories were new to Gita. She could hardly wait to hear if Isaac discovered his son was a cheat, or if Joseph was ever going to get out of the pit, or what would happen to Naaman the leper. Gita also attended Sunday school and church with her family. In fact, people thought she was a believer. But in her heart she knew the truth.

Gita cried as she left her family for the first time to go away to the mission school, but it was exciting to live with so many other girls. She didn't always do well on arithmetic and science, but she loved to read.

While Gita was adjusting to life at school, the rest of the family was very busy. Most of the missionaries were moving sixty-five miles away to the Memorial Christian Hospital. The Das family was moving there too. Since there were no houses built for the hospital staff, Gita's father had to rent a room in a nearby village. Gita's mother didn't mind that a bit. Now she had other women to talk with and a bamboo house like the one in their village.

When Gita arrived for her vacation from school, she was horrified. She had been sleeping on a real bed with covers and a bedspread on it. She had been sitting at a table to eat. How dare her parents expect her to sleep on a bamboo mat on the floor! Each time her mother asked her to help around the house, Gita was too busy reading or making lace. She wasn't going to dirty her hands and work like the village women, sift rice or scrubbing pots!

When Gita's father heard about the situation, he thought of a plan. "Take this basket and go out into the woods. Gather up a whole basketful of sticks and twigs for the fire," he ordered. When Gita returned after reluctantly obeying him, he continued, "Now go sit by the side of the road and sell your sticks like a beggar woman."

Gita's face fell and tears came to her eyes. "Listen my daughter," her father said. " We are sending you to school as you can learn many things. These things will help you as you grow up. But the most important thing to remember is this: all work is honorable. You should not be ashamed to do any honest work. Go and do what your mother asks. And never forget about the basket of sticks."

Late one night the missionary nurses were awakened by Debindra's voice outside their windows. "Please come quickly," he called. "My baby is terribly sick."

Arriving at the tiny house, the nurses could see that he was right. There were no doctors and very little medicine at the hospital the hospital yet, but everyone began a battle to save that little life. All night Gita's mother soothed and comforted her baby. Often she sang to him. Gita and her father walked up and down outside the house. Debindra often prayed, asking GOD to spare little Nidu's life if that was HIS will.

"Debindra, Gita,"the nurse called softly. "The baby is sleeping peacefully. The fever is down, and he is no longer choking. Why don't you two go home to rest?" GOD had answered prayer for Debindra.

Weeks passed after little Nidu had almost died. During those weeks, Gita remembered all the things GOD had done for her family: HE saved the baby's life; HE protected them from the terrible storm; HE provided for their needs by allowing their father to work in the hospital laundry.

What help had her Hindu idols been to her? They required sacrifices and payments all the time, but gave nothing in return. What was keeping Gita from becoming a Christian? Nothing but stubborn pride because she had declared she would remain a Hindu. She now realized how foolish she had been! After hearing about JESUS for such a long time, finally Gita received JESUS as her SAVIOR. "From that day on I have been so happy," said Gita. "And I know I will be happy forever for I have received eternal life through JESUS CHRIST."

Hello All, Grace and Peace be unto you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

Again Tomorrow

An American Boy in Japan

Johnny angrily kicked the small stone with his foot, watching it disappear into the azalea bushes.

"That's one of the rocks the boys threw at me yesterday," he muttered, looking narrowly at the high fence that surrounded the mission house. The trees on the other side made a perfect firing line.

"I don't see why we have to live in Japan," he said under his breath. "I hate it here! The boys are mean. I don't have a single friend."

A whizzing rock missed Johnny's ear by an inch. Quickly he jumped behind the persimmon tree. He heard scrambling and laughter. A rock hit the trunk of the tree. Then came a whole shower of pebbles.

Johnny did not mind the rocks as much as the laughing from behind the wall. If I only had someone to talk to and play ball with, he thought sadly. "Maybe they would want to play with me if they knew I was the star forward on the basketball team in America last year."

"Johnny,"Mother called. "It's time for supper." Dodging flying rocks, Johnny darted out of his hiding place and ran for the house.

"I hate Japan!" Johnny exclaimed, near tears as he sat at the table. "The Japanese boys throw rocks over the fence at me whenever I'm out in the yard playing." He jabbed his fork into the meatball on his plate. "Why can't we go back to America where I had some friends to play with?"

"You can play with us," suggested six-year-old Lorraine, carefully giving her doll a bite before raising the fork to her own mouth.

Johnny eyed her scornfully. "If you think I'm going to play dolls with you, you're crazy!"

"You know we can't go back to America yet, Johnny," answered Mother, ignoring Johnny's last remark. "We've been here in Japan only a month, and we promised to stay five years"

"Well, I can go back alone, can't I?" demanded Johnny stubbornly. "I could stay with Grandma and go to school there."

Mother looked so sad at this remark that Johnny immediately wished he had never said it. He turned his attention back to his plate.

The rumbling sound of the sliding front door announced Father's return. A few minutes later, he took his place at the table in the homey little kitchen.

"I've had quite a day!"he announced.

"The people in Omagari village seem very open to the gospel. The officials gave me permission to put up a tent, and quite a number of people agreed to come to the meetings."

"Did anybody get saved yet?" piped up eight-year-old Louise.

"Not yet, honey,"answered Mr. Anderson.

"But I believe there will be some saved soon. Why, in the hospital where I visited, one lady told me she had been waiting for years to hear the message of the Bible. She thanked me over and over again for the Japanese New Testament I left with her."

Johnny finished his meal in thoughtful silence. He knew that if they had not come to Japan, the people in Omagari village and these other places might never heave heard about JESUS. There were no other missionaries for miles around.

Alone in his room after supper, Johnny thought things over. He had heard about JESUS ever since he could remember. And one day, he asked JESUS to forgive his sins and be his SAVIOR. Man, he had been happy to know he had a clean heart and that JESUS had given him eternal life! Yes! the Japanese people should have this same chance to hear about JESUS. They needed missionaries to tell them. Why, he and his folks simply could not go back to America and leave all these people without a chance to hear about JESUS!

Johnny sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. "If my hair were not so blond and my eyes so blue and round, maybe I would fit into this country better." Johnny pulled back his eyes. "If I had slanted eyes and black hair like the Japanese boys, maybe they would come and play with me. Maybe I could dye my hair black so I would look more like them."

Johnny was still staring at himself in the mirror when Mother came in to say good night. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I do not think your eyes and the color of your hair really makes any difference, Johnny," Mother said when he told her what he had been thinking. "There's a verse in the Bible that says, 'A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly.' You'll have to do something to show the boys you want to be friends with them. Why don't you ask JESUS to give you some ideas?" she suggested as she got up to leave the room.

After Mother left, Johnny thoughtfully made circles on the straw mat floor with his big toe, then slipped to his knees.

The next morning, Johnny had an idea. "I've got it!" he almost shouted, jumping out of bed. "I'll learn some Japanese words from Kono San!" Johnny quickly put on his clothes and hurried to the kitchen where their Japanese maid was busy getting breakfast.

Kono San understood enough English to know what Johnny wanted. Over and over again, she repeated the words for "Come here," "Let's be friends," "Let's play."

Johnny kept mumbling them to himself as he ate breakfast. "Irrasshai, asoboo, tomodachi ni naroo." As he did his school lessons, with Mother supervising him and his sisters, the words kept running through his mind.

Johnny finished his lessons by two o'clock and went out to the yard. He had been waiting for quite a while when he saw the black heads in the big tree on the other side of the wall.

"Come! he shouted in Japanese. "Let's play! Let's be friends!"

He heard laughter and scrambling. Suddenly three Japanese boys appeared at the gate. Eagerly, Johnny ran to open it. "Come, let's play. Let's be friends," he repeated in his best Japanese.

The boys looked at him curiously for a moment, then at each other. They burst into laughter and ran away. Discouraged and lonelier than ever, Johnny trudged into the house.

"When someone laughs at the way I try to talk Japanese, I just laugh right with them," said Father that evening when Johnny told him what had happened. Don't give up, Johnny. Try again tomorrow."

Before he jumped into bed that night, Johnny prayed about his problem again. Suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. He was quite sure it would work! That big can in the refrigerator-it was just the right size.

Johnny worked as hard as he could on his lessons the next morning so he could try out his plan. Mother emptied the peaches into jars so Johnny could have the large tin can. Carefully he cut out the bottom with a can opener, then he washed and dried the large can. Running outside, he leaned the ladder against the garage and climbed up carefully clutching his can, a hammer, and some nails. He nailed the empty can above the garage door about eight feet from the ground. Putting the ladder away, he began to practice throwing a rubber ball through his homemade basketball hoop.

At first, he stood close to the can, but gradually he became more skillful and could throw from farther away. Johnny became to interested in his game that he did not notice the boys in the trees on the other side of the fence until he heard their shouts when he made a spectacular "basket" from quite a distance.

"Hooray!" shouted the boys in Japanese. Johnny looked up quickly. He searched his mind for the Japanese words he had learned. "Come," he said, "let's play."

The boys laughed at his strange accent. Johnny laughed too. In a moment, they appeared at the front gate. This time they did not run away.

Johnny gave the ball to the biggest boy, who threw it at the empty can. Everybody laughed when he missed.

Then the boys lined up and took turns. After doing that a while, they formed sides and played a game with the ball and can, counting scores. All too soon, Mother called Johnny in for supper.

"Mata ashita," called the boys as they ran out the gate.

Johnny knew that Sayonara meant "Good-bye," but what did these other words mean? He would ask Father. But by the time he had reached the table where the family was waiting for him, he had forgotten the words.

"Think hard!" encouraged Father. "They'll come back to you."

Johnny frowned, trying to remember. "I think the first word was something like mata."

Dad laughed. "Mata ashita!"

"That's it!" shouted Johnny jumping up in his excitement. "What does it mean?"

Hello All, Grace and Peace be unto you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE!!!

This story touched my heart, as all the stories I am posting have. My hope is that they will be soul stirring for you as well. GOD bless you!

The GOD Who Made Chaluba's Hands

Chaluba watched with pleasure as the thin shavings of wood curled away from his knife. Surely this would be the best god he had ever made. He had been carving idols ever since he was old enough to hold a knife in his hand, but never before had he made one with such a fierce expression on its face. Chaluba smiled as he carved the thin lines for the eyes, the mouth, and the hands.

Suddenly, Chaluba stopped carving. "I am making this god's hands," he thought. "I wonder who made my hands? Surely it was not this idol that I am carving. Why, I have the power to make him or to destroy him. The GOD Who Made My Hands must be much greater than this idol, for my hands can do many things. But who is HE, I wonder? I have never heard the people in the village speak of HIM, not even the witch doctor."

Chaluba laid aside his knife and sat thinking. If only he knew more about the GOD Who Made His Hands!

Soon, the people of the village began talking about Chaluba. "Have you heard?" they said. "Chaluba is not carving idols any more, and he refuses to worship the village gods. The gods will be angry, and something terrible will happen to us."

Finally, the news reached the ears of the witch doctor himself, and he called Chaluba before him. "What is this I hear," he said, "that you not only refuse to do your work, but you also have stopped worshiping our gods? Is it true?"

Chaluba bowed low before the witch doctor, and then he stood straight and tall. "Oh, sir, it is true," he said. "I can not longer worship gods that I have the power to make or destroy. I want to worship the GOD Who Made My Hands. But who is HE? Can you tell me about HIM?"

The witch doctor and the town leaders rose in anger against Chaluba. "The gods will punish us if we allow someone in our village to talk like that." they shouted. "We must kill this boy."

Chaluba ran for his life through the village, across a field, and deep into the jungle. Finally,when he was sure that he was no longer being followed, he dropped, panting, beneath a large tree.

"Now, what shall I do?" he wondered. "I cannot go back to the village-the people would surely kill me. I know! I shall look for the GOD Who Made My Hands. Who knows? Perhaps I shall find HIM."

Chaluba climbed high up into the tree. It was dark now, and he needed to protect himself from wild animals.

Far off in the jungle, a lion roared, and another answered "The GOD Who Made My Hands must have made the lions, too," Chaluba thought, "and this tree, and everything that is in the jungle. I wonder what HE thinks of the things HE has made? Does HE love them and take care of them?"

With this thought, Chaluba fell asleep. He awoke early the next morning and determined to begin his search.

Chaluba wandered from village to village, always asking, "Have you seen the GOD Who Made My Hands? Can you tell me about HIM?"

Always, the frightened people shouted, "The gods will be angry!"And Chaluba had to run for his life.

At last, someone told Chaluba of a very old and very wise man named Mamba. Mamba had gone to the government post years ago, and had returned to his village with a magic that made marks on wood and paper talk.

"Perhaps this wise man can tell me what I want to know," Chaluba thought. He went to Mamba's village, found the hut where he lived, and told him his story. "And you, who are so wise," Chaluba said, "can you tell me about the GOD Who Made My Hands?I do want to know HIM!"

Mamba was so old that his voice trembled as he replied, "My son," he said, "many years ago I went down the river to the government post and learned to read, for that is the magic of marks on wood and paper. While I was there, I heard someone speak of a Book which tells of a GOD who made the jungle and all that is in it. I have never seen that Book myself, but if you stay here with me, I will teach you to read, and then maybe you can find the Book for yourself,"

Chaluba did stay with Mamba for days, weeks, and months. He studied hard each day, and finally he knew the magic of reading. After he had been with Mamba for about a year, Mamba died, and Chaluba was left alone.

"Now, what shall I do? he thought. "I know! I shall go down the river to the government post and find the GOD Who Made My Hands."

Chaluba made himself a canoe and began the long, lonely trip down the river. He paddled for days and days, and at last he saw the buildings of the government post. Would he find the answer to his question here?

With fear in his heart, Chaluba approached the strange white man who stood in the doorway of one of the buildings. "Please, sir," he said, " I am looking for the GOD Who Made My Hands. Does HE live here?"

The men only laughed. "Go back to your village," he said gruffly. "There is no room for you here."

In despair, Chaluba paddled back up the river to his village. Before he entered the village, he fell to his knees. "Oh, GOD Who Made My Hands," he cried, "I have tried and tried to find YOU, but always I fail. If YOU want me to know YOU, YOU must show YOURSELF to me."

To earn a living, Chaluba became a hunter. Sometimes he would be gone for many days looking for meat for the people of the village. As he returned from on such trip, the people ran to meet him.

"Oh, Chaluba," they cried. "What you have missed while you were gone! The very day that you left, a strange man came to the village with a box of black Books. He spoke to us of a GOD who made the jungle and all that is within it, and who loves the things that HE made, and...But wait! When we told him about you and your magic of reading, he left one of the Books for you. It is on the platform in the center of the village."

Chaluba trembled as he approached the center of the village. Could this be his answer at last? He stepped onto the platform and reached for the Book.

With shaking hands, he opened it to the first page and read:

"In the beginning GOD created the Heaven and the earth."

Could this Book really be about the GOD Who Made His Hands? On and on Chaluba read, not stopping even to eat.

"No man hath seen GOD at any time; the only begotten Son...hath declared HIM."

"For GOD so loved the world, that HE gave HIS only begotten SON, that whosoever believeth in HIM should not perish, but have everlasting life."

At last, Chaluba closed the Book. Falling to his knees, he cried out, "Oh, GOD Who Made My Hands, I do believe that. I believe that YOU made me and that YOU love me. I believe that YOU sent YOUR SON to die for my sins. At last, I have found YOU! I have found the GOD Who Made My Hands."

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

This next story is lengthy, but worth the read. I love this story of...

The Wallpaper That Talked

Far away in Japan lived a little Koto San and her grandmother. As they sat sipping their tea one chilly day, Grandmother said thoughtfully,"My, but I wish I had enough money to buy some wallpaper." "It would be nice to have some pretty new paper!" cried Koto San eagerly. " Please, do try to get some!"

"But we are so poor. We really do need the paper, since it would make the room warmer for winter, but I'm afraid that I can get nothing with the little bit of money that I have."

Next morning, Grandmother proudly watched Koto San as she skipped to the mission school. Koto San was a bright little girl, and already she could read. Grandmother had wondered if she was doing right when she first allowed Koto San to go to the school of the "foreign devils." But Koto San must have an education, and this was the cheapest way. To soothe her conscience, Grandmother had forbidden Koto San to ever bring home the "foreign devils" terrible book"-the Bible.

Koto San had learned to love the LORD JESUS after hearing about HIM from the missionaries, and often she longed to tell Grandmother that the wonderful LORD JESUS loved her, too, and had died for her sins. But because she feared that Grandmother might not allow her to go to the mission school, she kept her secret in her heart and prayed for Grandmother.

After Koto San had gone, Grandmother put on her bright kimono, a long dress with big sleeves and a wide sash. Taking her bit of money, she hurried to the market. What a busy, noisy place! And, oh, what wonderful things there were to buy-if only one had money! At the shops that sold wallpaper, Grandmother was thrilled with the lovely paper she saw, but again and again she shook her head. It was just as she feared. She did not have enough money.

Sadly Grandmother walked slowly homeward. As she passed a neat little house, she noticed its lovely lawn. But what was that lying on the grass? Could it be a box? Had someone dropped it? Grandmother looked up and down the narrow, empty street. Crossing the lawn quickly, she picked up the box, opened it cautiously, and peeked inside.

Oh! Oh! How wonderful! The box was full of paper-paper that had pretty writing marks all over it that meant nothing to Grandmother, who could not read! The sheets of paper were not large, but there were so many of them that perhaps there would be enough to cover the walls of her room. Once again Grandmother looked up and down the street and at the little house. No one seemed to be watching. Surely the box must have been thrown away. Without waiting any longer, she tucked the box into her big sleeve and hurried home.

Mixing the paste took but a few moments, and when Koto San returned home from the mission school, Grandmother had quite a bit of one wall already papered. "Oh, Grandmother, how nice!" she cried happily. "You did get some pretty paper! I have never seen wallpaper just like this before." Koto San went closer and suddenly she caught her breath. For a moment she looked frightened as she glanced quickly at Grandmother and then back at the paper. Grandmother calmly continued with her work. Koto San's eyes began to twinkle and sparkle, for Koto San knew something about that paper that Grandmother did not know. Grandmother was pasting the Bible-the "foreign devils" book"-on their walls!

After several days, the room was finished. Grandmother and Koto San surveyed their work proudly. My, but it did look nice! "And to think it didn't cost me anything!" Grandmother was thinking.

"Now I can read the Bible whenever I wish!" Koto San was thinking. After that, as they sat sipping their tea together, Koto San would sit close to the wall so that she could read. Often she wished that she dared to tell Grandmother the secret, but she supposed that Grandmother would tear the paper from the wall if she knew.

One day Koto San thought, "I'll tell her just a little bit to see if she gets angry." "Grandmother, sometimes as I sit here drinking tea, the wallpaper talks to me."

"Talks to you? Why, what nonsense, child." She turned to look at the wall beside her. " Whoever heard of wallpaper talking!"

"But it does!" insisted Koto San.

"Then what does it say if it talks to you?" Grandmother asked unbelievingly.

"Well, began Koto San slowly, "right here it tells how the great GOD in Heaven made the sun, moon, and stars, and all the wonderful world we live in!" and she read to Grandmother from the first chapter of Genesis.

"How wonderful! Grandmother exclaimed, hardly able to believe it. "Does it really say that? How strange that I can not hear it talk, " and she bent her ear to the wall. "Does it say anything else?"

"Oh, yes,! It tells me how GOD made and put the first people in the wonderful world, and how HE blessed them. But one day they were wicked," and Koto San read the sad story of how sin entered the world when Adam and Eve listened to Satan and disobeyed GOD eating of the tree HE had forbidden them to eat.

"How sad! Does the wallpaper say whether GOD punished them?" "GOD said they must surely die. If they had not disobeyed, they would have lived forever!"

"Does the wallpaper tell more? Something about that story talks to my heart, for my heart is sometimes wicked. Must GOD punish me, too?" Grandmother wondered softly. "We must listen again tomorrow and see if it will tell us more."

After that, Grandmother eagerly awaited Koto San's return from school each day. Soon Grandmother learned the good news that GOD sent HIS SON into the world to die for all who had sinned against HIM. When she heard that GOD loved her, and that she could accept HIS SON as her SAVIOR, she trembled for joy! Could these wonderful words be true?

Then one morning after Koto San had gone to school, Grandmother put on her pretty kimono again and hurried down the street. The burden on her heart to know whether this wonderful love story was true or not had grown so great that she had decided she must find out today. Perhaps the people who lived in the house where she had found the box could tell her if the story was true. But would they be angry and think she had stolen it? Grandmother was so anxious to have her questions answered that she went bravely to the little house.

When a foreign woman opened the door, Grandmother could only stare at her green eyes and straw-colored hair. The lady smiled and invited her in. Before Grandmother knew it, she was sitting down pouring out her story. The missionary listened quietly until Grandmother finished; then she got her Bible. As she opened the Book, Grandmother grew more excited. "There it is! Just the same as my wallpaper! Oh, tell me, please tell me, is it true? Does GOD really love me?"

With joy in her face the missionary cried, "HE does! See here, 'For GOD so loved the world, that HE gave HIS only begotten SON, that whosoever believeth in HIM should not perish, but have everlasting life.' And HE says, 'Him that cometh to ME I will in wise cast out.'"

Before the missionary could say much more, Grandmother was on her knees, weeping her thanks to GOD for loving a poor old Japanese woman enough to send the LORD JESUS to die for her sins. Then getting to her feet she said, "I am sorry, but I must go now. Thank you , oh, thank you for all you have told me." and she hurried away with a shining face.

When Koto San got home, Grandmother met her at the door. "Oh, Koto San! What do you think I found out today? Our wallpaper is really the Bible!" For a moment Koto San was frightened, but then she noticed the joy on Grandmother's face. " "And best of all, Koto San," she hurried on to say, "I found out that it is all true! No one else in all of Japan has wallpaper that talks. Listen, little Koto San, run up and down the street and knock on all our neighbors' doors. Invite the ladies to come to our house for tea and to listen to the wallpaper's good news."

Hello All, Grace and Peace be to you from our LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.

I want you all to enjoy these amazing children's stories. I will be posting a different story everyday for a week. The first story captured me because of this little girls heart. I pray we will all have a heart to share the GOSPEL. GOD bless you all!

Catarina's Ten Fingers

If ever a little girl wanted to do something, that little girl was Catarina. Since she only wanted to go to Sunday school, you may well be surprised that she was not allowed to go, especially as she was perfectly healthy, the day was bright and sunny, and Sunday school met almost in her own back yard.

Catarina watched from the kitchen window as the children began to gather under the big palm tree next door. She wished she could be with them as they sat in a half circle around the tree and watched the teacher pin a Bible-story picture to the tree trunk. If only she could sit with the children and listen to the story!

"Oh, Madre," she said to her mother, "please, please, can I go to the Sunday school? See? I have been two times already, and it has not hurt me. Please, may I go?"

"No!" said Catarina's mother. "Something in my bones tell me that Sunday school will be bad for our family. Run along, now! You are in the way when there is cooking"

A tear ran down Catarina's cheek as she walked out onto the back porch. Another tear followed as she brushed past her father, who was sunning his toes on the steps.

"Now, then," he said, as he saw Catarina's troubled face, "What is the matter?"

"Go, then" said her father. "You may go ten times, until you have heard a story for each finger on your two hands. Only listen carefully, so you will remember the stories well. Hurry, now, for they are beginning."

Catarina ran as fast as her feet would take her to the little circle of children under the palm tree. She listened attentively, and she remembered what she heard.

The next Sunday, Catarina returned to the Sunday school, and the next, and the next. She went until she had learned a story for each of her nine fingers, and now the smallest finger on her left hand was eagerly waiting for the last story. As soon as Sunday came, Catarina would have a story for that finger. too.

But before that last Sunday came, something terrible happened. Catarina's family moved away to another village, exactly the same as the first one, only---there was no Sunday school!" Catarina asked her new little neighbors about it, but they only said, "What is Sunday school?"

"Oh," said Catarina, "a Sunday school is when you have a big palm tree, and the children sit in a circle around it, and the teacher puts a Bible picture on the tree and tells a story about JESUS. I myself know nine of those stories--one for each of these nine fingers. Now only my last little finger is waiting to hear a story."

"Catarina," said the boys and girls, "let us have a Sunday school. You can be the teacher, for you know the stories. Tell us the stories about JESUS."

Catarina thought that was a good idea. She had the children sit in a circle around a big palm tree, and then she pinned a sheet of white paper to the tree.

"Now," she said, "you must imagine that there are hills in the picture, and on the hills are shepherds with their sheep." And you certainly did have to imagine, for there was really not a single mark on that piece of paper.

"It is night," Catarina continued, "and it is dark---very, very dark. when all of a sudden, there is a great light. And who do you suppose made the light? It was angles, come to tell the shepherds that JESUS was born."

"But who is JESUS?" asked on little boy, Catarina told them, and that was the first story.

"Oh, Catarina," the children said, "we like finger stories. Tell us some more!"

So Catarina told her new friends story after story about JESUS. She told how HE was born in a manger, and how HE healed sick people and fed five thousand people with one little boy's lunch. She told about HIS death on the cross for our sins, and about HIS resurrection from the dead.

All the stories that she knew, she told over and over again, until many of the children knew them by heart. The children enjoyed the stories so much that they named Catarina's fingers after them. There was the Shepherd Finger, and the Manger Finger, the Temple Finger, the Disciple Finger, the Sick Finger, the Lunch Finger, the Preaching Finger, the Cross Finger, and the Resurrection Finger--nine names for nine fingers. But always, the last little finger remained nameless.

"Oh, I wish I knew a story for the last finger!" Catarina would say. But she did not, so she started over again with the first finger.

One day, a missionary came to Catarina's new village. She gathered the women and children together and began to tell a Bible story. "Oh, we know how that story ends," the children said. "That is Catarina's third finger story."

The missionary did not know about Catarina or her fingers, so she started to tell another story. "That is Catarina's sixth finger story," one little boy called out.

"Who is Catarina?" the missionary asked.

"And what is all this about her fingers?"

With much persuasion, Catarina came shyly forward. "I am Catarina," she said, " and I know a Bible story for each of these nine fingers. But alas, my tenth finger always remains empty. Can you tell me a story for this little finger?"

When the missionary had learned more about Catarina, she said that she thought Catarina's tenth finger was a story in itself.

"After JESUS arose from the dead," she said, "just before HE went up to HEAVEN, HE told the people, 'Go ye into all the world and preach the GOSPEL.' That means that JESUS wants us to tell people about HIM. I think that you, Catarina, have done as much as any little girl could to obey that command, for the very day you moved to this new village you began to tell the children about HIM."

And from that day forward, the children of the village called Catarina's last little finger the "GO Ye Finger."